


intervals

by yeosakoi



Category: Golden Child (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Flirting, Cute, Fluff, Gay Panic, Humor, M/M, Painting, Pre-Relationship, jibeom is thirsty because the handyman is cute, this was literally titled 'sexy handyman fic' in the drafts HJDSHJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeosakoi/pseuds/yeosakoi
Summary: Those stained overalls have NO business looking as good as they do on the boy. Jibeom has the strongest urge to reach over and button up the one strap that hangs loose, because he’s convinced that’s where all the sexiness is oozing from.
Relationships: Hong Joochan/Kim Jibeom
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	1. paint

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO. so what is this?? i don't know either. all i know is me and my friend saw [this](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/775179053140541453/808498995248103424/image0.png) pic of genie joochan and wow ideas. speaking of said friend tysm to em because i would not have been able to shoulder through this otherwise sdjhhjsdf t-t. i probably won't be able to write a for a little while because i have tests this entire week, so wish me luck on that~ anyways, enjoy, and consider leaving a kudo and comment if you do !!!

It is purely out of the kindness of his heart that Jibeom offers for Jaehyun to room with him for a little while until the other’s apartment (probably situated in some rich area where even the oxygen tastes expensive) is settled. At the time, it seems like a solid deal: live with his best friend for a few months, stay up to unholy hours of the night studying (read: procrastinating) together, and pay half the bills. He has nothing to lose, or so he thinks.

Jibeom’s kind, kind heart is going to be the death of him one day, because what he fails to take into consideration is Jaehyun’s… demons. Jaehyun himself prefers to call them his _babies,_ or when he’s feeling angrier, his dogs. 

Sure, they may be fluffy and white and cute to the naked eye, but those... _things_ are _not_ dogs. 

For one, they had made it their personal goal to make Jibeom’s life living _hell._ Jibeom has lost count of the number of times he has tiredly shambled into his room after a long day of studying and working only to find it in ruins, his clothes strewn all over the floor, the sheets ripped off of his bed, the room stinking of dog. Even more infuriating is that they had somehow managed to pull out every one of his striped shirts, his most essential fashion item. How could they be so cruel? 

Jaehyun has no mercy when Jibeom mournfully informs him of his dogs’ misdoings. “It’s a sign you need to invest in clothing that’s _actually_ fashionable,” he says. 

Jibeom chooses to ignore him.

The dogs don’t stop there, no. If Jibeom had known that getting Jaehyun to stop them from trashing his room means that he’ll have to shake them off of his arms and legs every waking moment lest he is covered in purple bruises instead, he’d have never told him to. Once again, Jaehyun is just as sympathetic as before, claiming “it’s just their way of showing love!” Jibeom eyes the snarling dogs in Jaehyun’s lap and thinks otherwise. 

It’s not much of a surprise when Jibeom comes back to find the dogs’ next target is the wall of his room, specifically the one opposite his bed. Countless claws and dog-sized teeth marks mar the wall, standing out starkly against the white. Jibeom surveys the damage calmly before he flops onto his bed, wondering what he has done in his previous life to deserve this, to be living with his best friend (who is steadily moving away from the title with how often his dogs act up) and endure his demons when he could have been living with a cute boy who could have been his boyfriend instead. 

He draws the line at the wall, calmly informing Jaehyun that unless he wants to sleep in a cardboard box on the streets, he’s going to get rid of the dogs. “Send them to your family, the pet shop, the butcher’s-” Jaehyun gasps at that- “As long as they’re not _here._ ”

Jaehyun complains. A lot. In the end, he grudgingly agrees. The farewell as his mother drops by to pick up the dogs is filled with lots of sobbing and snot on Jaehyun’s end and lots of relief on Jibeom’s.

Even with the dogs gone, it’s too late to save the walls. They had always been scuffed up and in disrepair, but the damage the dogs had left makes it impossible to ignore any longer. 

Jaehyun gets fed up with Jibeom’s snarky comments towards him every other minute and hands him an envelope. 

Jibeom calls the handyman the very next day.

The sound of fists against the door is music to his ears and Jibeom nearly sprains an ankle in his haste to get to the door, already envisioning his freshly-painted wall before his eyes. All he knows is that at that very moment, the handyman is his only salvation. 

All thoughts of the wall dissipate as he pulls open the door, because it’s no longer a priority. Not when the person he’d assumed to be maybe a grumpy old man with graying hair and a family of four, looking as if he regrets not studying more back in college is quite clearly _not_ that, but a boy who can’t be much younger than Jibeom, looking as if he’s walked straight out of one of his wet dreams.

Jibeom only has one thought in his head.

_Oh, no, he’s hot._

Pretty eyes, pretty face, pretty waist. And orange hair, because of course it’s orange. Jibeom repents for every time he had claimed that it’s impossible for anyone to pull the color off because the boy leaning against the wall sure does, sporting an orange mullet complete with a swing of bangs across his forehead. Jibeom suddenly finds himself possessing a new appreciation for orange that he’s quite sure he didn’t have a moment ago. His throat dries up a little as he soaks in the rest of the other. 

Those stained overalls have NO business looking as good as they do on the boy. Jibeom has the strongest urge to reach over and button up the one strap that hangs loose, because he’s convinced that’s where all the sexiness is oozing from. He resists, only because he’s pretty sure it’s not socially acceptable to go around adjusting people’s clothing, let alone a handyman’s he’s met hardly a minute ago.

The (sexy) handyman pushes himself off the wall as he notices Jibeom standing stupidly by the door, a smile breaking out across his face. Jibeom blinks, suddenly blinded. So not only is he hot, but he’s _also_ cute? He doesn’t get to revel in his discovery because the boy is holding out a hand, his other stuffed in a pocket.

“Hi, I’m Joochan. Here for the walls?” His grin gets wider as he sweeps Jibeom with an eye. “And you must be Kim Jibeom?” Jibeom’s brain glitches. He thinks that he wants Joochan to say his name again, preferably in a different context.

His mouth moves before he can think it through. “Hot.”

Joochan tilts his head, smile faltering for a moment before it’s back, although it’s more confused than anything. “Come again?”  
  
A little too late, Jibeom remembers that _right,_ it’s also not socially acceptable to go around calling random people hot until a few requirements are met. Seems like he’s accidentally skipped a few steps. Fuck. He clears his throat. “I mean, hello. Yes, I’m Jibeom.”

He shakes Joochan’s hand, maybe too enthusiastically, if the laugh the other lets out is any indication. “Nice to meet you, Jibeom. And you too.”

A moment of silence. “Me too?”

Joochan’s eyes only crease up further, secretive and sly. “I assume the room I’m working on is yours?” 

Oh, right. There are reasons why such a pretty boy has shown up at his home. And unfortunately, not for the reasons Jibeom wishes they are. “Oh, yes. Right. My room.”

_That would have sounded SO much better in a different context-_

He steadily ignores the voice in his head as he leads Joochan to his room, trying to not think about how attractive the other is. 

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Jibeom asks when they’re finally standing in his room, Joochan’s hand on a hip as he surveys the wall. He tries not to find it cute when Joochan taps a finger against his chin as he hums.

 _Hums!_ Jibeom is stuck in a state of utter anguish. 

“I’d say I can finish by the end of the day,” Joochan concludes. Jibeom doesn’t even have the pride to feel pathetic at all the possible excuses that surge through his head that he can use to keep the other around longer.

“Really?” The disappointment in his voice is clear, if the brow Joochan arches in his direction is anything to go by. “I mean—that’s great! No pressure, though. If you can’t finish the job, you could just come back tomorrow. I mean—take your time. I don’t mind at all. I mean-” He decides it’s high time he shut his mouth. “Yeah,” he finishes lamely. 

To his credit, Joochan doesn’t look at him as if he’s grown another head and rush out screaming. In fact, to Jibeom’s surprise, he looks… _amused._ He turns before Jibeom can gauge anything from his expression. “That’s—that’s good for me,” there’s an underlying, barely held back laugh in his words. “Give me a second, let me grab my paints.” He disappears out of the room and Jibeom lets out a strangled breath.

Less than ten minutes with a pretty boy and he has somehow found a multitude of ways to embarrass himself. Maybe if he had more shame, he would have been planning the best way to change his surname. It’s a good thing then, that he has none, and all he wonders is if what Jaehyun had said about him being single is because no one can handle his stupidity has some truth in it. 

Joochan returns before Jibeom can mull over it any further, two heavy pails in hand. He waves it off when Jibeom springs up to help him out. “No need,” he says, “you’re paying me after all.” His protests don’t stop Jibeom from taking a pail from him anyway, and it’s worth the grateful look Joochan shoots in his direction.

He peeks over as Joochan pops off the lid of the can, finding a pool of light gray. “Pretty color, right?” Joochan says, even as Jibeom is thinking _you’re the pretty one_ here in his head.

The confusion Joochan looks at him with tells him that his words hadn’t stayed in his head after all. “I mean, your hair,” he quickly corrects, thankful that Joochan has a head of bright orange instead of something mundane, or else he’d be in trouble. “It’s a pretty color.” 

Joochan’s expression morphs into one of surprise as he touches his hair. “Really? It’s the result of a drunken dare at a party.” He winces as if it’s a particularly painful memory. “The mullet too. Lesson learned is to not accept dumb dares by your even dumber friend. I didn’t think anyone would think it looks good.” 

“I’m sure you’d look good in anything, though,” Jibeom muses, thoughtless mumble louder than he had expected it to be. Joochan’s strangled cough prompts him to look up at the other and he _swears_ he spies a pale pink tinge on Joochan's cheeks. Huh.

“T-Thank you.” He suddenly looks bashful, scratching the back of his head. Jibeom’s thought of _oh, no, he’s hot_ abruptly changes into _oh, no he’s cute._

Jibeom ducks his head, ears burning. Maybe it’s better for him that Joochan is going to be done by the end of the day because he isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to hold out. 

Joochan busies himself with rolling his sleeves up to his elbows (and Jibeom is _definitely_ not tracking the movement with his eyes) before he bends over to—and _oh, yeah,_ Jibeom is eyeing his ass now. Joochan turns back and Jibeom hurriedly looks in the opposite direction.

“Just going to watch me as I paint?” The words aren’t accusatory, only curious. Jibeom blanches anyways.

“Oh, um, sorry, I guess I’m not supposed to-” He’s hurriedly picking himself off the bed when Joochan hurriedly waves his hands.

“Oh, no, no, I don’t mind! But isn’t it just…” Joochan fiddles with the paintbrush in his hands. “Boring to watch me?” Oh.

Jibeom mulls over it. Is it boring to watch the painting process? Yes. Is it boring to watch _Joochan_? No. Can he say that to Joochan? No.

“I, uh-” He wracks his mind for an excuse that isn’t _as long as I get to shamelessly check you out, no_ and doesn’t make him sound like a creep. “I’ve always been interested in, uh, art. Yeah. Art.” There’s a long pause in which Joochan looks between the blank wall and Jibeom in some type of disbelief. 

“...Art.” Jibeom sweats.  
  
“Yeah, haha. I like—I like watching paint dry.” And he had thought his excuses couldn’t have gotten any worse. Another long pause in which Jibeom expects Joochan to throw down his paintbrush and inform him that he doesn’t work for weirdos. 

To his surprise, Joochan does _not_ do that. Instead, Jibeom stares in surprise as Joochan _laughs._

“You’re funny,” he giggles out, and Jibeom wants to bottle up the sound of his laughter and keep it with him to listen to whenever he wants. Any reply he may have had dies on his tongue, and he can only watch as Joochan returns to carefully applying the blue tape onto the wall. 

After that, Joochan works mostly in silence and Jibeom watches just as silently with the exception of a few random questions that he throws out when the silence gets too loud for him to handle. 

“What made you do…” He gestures to Joochan’s paints. “This?”

“It’s been my lifetime dream as a kid,” Joochan answers dryly, cracking a smile when Jibeom tries to figure out if he’s being serious or not. “Desperation and bills to pay, and this was the easiest job to get after I got fired at Popeyes for sneaking too much food.” He notices Jibeom’s dumbfounded expression and nods grimly. “Makes no sense, right? Putting chicken right in front of me and expecting me _not_ to eat it?” That’s all Joochan offers him even as Jibeom continues to gape at him.

At one point, Jibeom stands up and crosses over to where Joochan is working, pretending to scrutinize the paint even as his eyes wander to where the other is. Joochan pauses in his painting for a moment to brush out the orange bangs from his forehead, and Jibeom gets a little caught up watching him as he tucks a lock behind an ear. 

The other does have such beautiful eyes, Jibeom thinks, slanted and curving cutely before they taper up, the slight dusting of pink eyeshadow he has on highlighting the fold of his lid and bringing out the twinkle that seems to be naturally present in his eyes, the twinkle that’s trained onto Jibeom’s own eyes. 

Jibeom clears his throat and looks away. He thinks he hears a soft chuckle from Joochan. 

He glances back at Joochan, at the orange mullet that covers his neck, and remembers Joochan’s previous words. “So, dare, huh?”

Joochan groans at that, dropping his brush and dragging a hand through his hair and Jibeom momentarily panics because _wow, that’s sexy._ “I prefer not to remember that memory. It was a crazy party and my dumb friend somehow convinced me to not take the punishment and get this-” He gestures to his hair. “-God awful haircut.” 

Jibeom cocks a brow, interest piqued. “Punishment?”

A huff. “It was to kiss the next person I ran into.” Oh, Jibeom’s quite thankful that he had been convinced to- “I did it anyway, so really it was all a loss for me.” Jibeom wilts sadly.

Joochan? Kiss? He’s exceedingly jealous, then he feels dumb for being jealous. Still, he can’t help but wish he had been the lucky person to receive a kiss from the orange-haired boy. He tries to continue casually. “That must’ve sucked, huh.”

“I don’t remember much of it,” Joochan says, shrugging. “All I remember is looking at some guy and thinking he’s hot and kissing him.” Another twinge of jealousy, even as he frowns and wonders why the story sounds strangely familiar. Where had he heard it before? 

“You’re in college, then?” Joochan asks him, and Jibeom perks up, previous thought forgotten. If Joochan’s asking him a question, it must mean he’s not… _bothered_ by him at the very least, right? A hopefulness seizes him.

“Uh, huh. The one just a couple minutes away-” Joochan freezes and then whips his head around so quickly that Jibeom thinks he hears his neck crack. Not quite understanding the look on the other’s face, he continues, “I’m a junior.”

Joochan makes a sound of realization. “ _You’re_ Kim Jibeom,” he says with sudden clarity. Jibeom eyes him in confusion. He had thought that was obvious. 

“Yeah, that’s what I signed the paper under-” Joochan shakes his head impatiently.

“No, no. Like. You’re _Kim Jibeom._ From college.” Jibeom stares at him, the gears in his head whirring.

“You go to-?”

“The college just down the street? Yep. I _thought_ your name sounded familiar.” Jibeom gawks at him, trying to make sense of the situation. He doesn’t remember a Joochan or ever meeting him, and he’s sure that he’d have remembered someone as pretty as the other if he had. Joochan seems to sense his confusion because he chuckles as he resumes his work.

“Oh, I don’t expect you to recognize me. I’m a musical theatre major, like, you know, one of the _weird_ kids.” Jibeom is ready to interrupt and insist that Joochan is _clearly_ not weird, and if there’s anyone _weird_ out of the two of them, it’s _him_ , but the other doesn’t give him a chance to butt in. “Stay pretty much in the shadows. Everyone knows _you,_ of course.”

Jibeom blinks. This is news to him. “They do?” Joochan shoots him an incredulous look as if he can’t believe him. 

“Of course they do. Have you looked in the mirror?” 

Another blink. “The mirror?” Joochan makes a noise of disbelief.

“Are you going to make me spell it out for you?” He gestures to Jibeom’s face. “You’re pretty. Everyone has the hots for you.”

Pretty… Has the hots for…

Jibeom’s face suddenly feels warm.

He knows that sure, he’s _objectively_ attractive, even with the way Bomin is bent on assuring him that he looks like yet another pedestrian on the streets. But to hear that apparently everyone has the “hots for him…”

He suddenly wonders if Joochan is included in the list, and then he realizes: _Joochan just called him pretty!_

It’s impressive that he’s able to keep a straight face with the giddiness that’s overflowing into him. 

Maybe, just maybe… He can use this to his advantage. Because if Joochan thinks he’s pretty, that must mean he has a chance, right? He can prove Jaehyun wrong once and for all and show that his flirting game isn’t nonexistent after all. 

Sudden confidence possessing him, he shoves a hand into his pocket, sauntering closer to Joochan and leaning against the wall. “Everyone has the hots for me, huh?” He cocks a brow arrogantly, leaning closer to Joochan until they’re hardly a nose-length apart. Joochan blinks, clearly taken aback by the sudden change of tempo. “Does that apply to you too?” 

Joochan doesn’t reply, only stares at Jibeom silently, whose confidence wanes with every passing second. “...Uhm…” 

Joochan points at him. “You’re getting paint on your cheek.” Jibeom pauses. And then screeches and leaps away from the wall, hands flying to his face. His fingers come away wet, smudged with gray. He wants to die. 

“Fuck, oh, God, I’m sorry—I’m just getting in your way and being annoying, I’ll just-” He babbles, reaching up to furiously rub at his cheek. His fingers have barely touched his cheek when Joochan grabs his wrist, pulling it back. He looks up in surprise. 

Joochan grins, his eyes dancing. “I, for one, think you’re quite entertaining. And let me.” Before Jibeom can react, Joochan’s leaning up. His breath catches as Joochan’s hand rests on his cheek, thumb gently wiping away the paint. Jibeom’s brain goes haywire. 

_Joochan’s! Hand! Touching! His! Face!_

It’s impressive even to himself that he doesn’t blurt out something embarrassing right then and there, but he’s experiencing too much of a shock as Joochan’s breath fans against his cheek as he gently dabs the paint away. Too quickly, he leans back, cute smile still on his face. “There you go.”

_Ba-dump._

And there it is, the telltale signs that Jibeom is falling hard and fast. It takes everything in him to not get on one knee right then and there. 

Even with his uncanny ability to remain unfazed, this is too much, and he can’t keep back the stutter in his words. “T-Thanks. I’ll go and, um. Wash the rest off.” 

He slips out of the room, his heart pounding against his chest and face bright red as if he’s back to being a teenager and experiencing his first crush on a classmate. It’s when he’s scrubbing his face, harshly, as if it’ll remove the pink from his cheeks, that he groans loudly. “I looked _so_ dumb,” he grouses to himself. “There’s no way I’ll be able to recover from this.” 

Shaking his head in despair, he dries his face before he throws the towel somewhere onto the floor, where Jaehyun will surely make a big fuss out of it. 

His eyes catch onto the bowl of lollipops that rest innocently on the kitchen table. Instinctively, he grabs a handful, shoving one into his mouth. 

Joochan is once again hard at work when he sneaks his way back, hoping that the other won’t notice him awkwardly walking in. Thankfully, he remains focused on his work, stroking carefully here and there, and Jibeom takes the chance to once again allow himself to appreciate the other, taking note of the sweat that clings to his forehead and neck. He must be exhausted, Jibeom thinks. 

“Do you-” Joochan looks his way and he forgets what he had been going to say momentarily. “W-Want a glass of water or something?” He grins sheepishly, realizing how pathetic the offer sounds. “Sorry, I would offer you juice or soda or something, but we’re all out…” 

Joochan hurriedly shakes his head. “Oh, no, that’s fine. The offer is enough,” he says, but he looks touched before his gaze drops lower. For a split second, his eyes dart to Jibeom’s hand and then back to where they had been trained on the wall. Jibeom looks down, finding the handful of lollipops clasped in his hands, and then back at Joochan, who is not-so-subtly eying them again.

_Ah, cute._

He holds them up, shaking his hands like he’s luring a stray cat. “Here, have one.” Joochan blushes, realizing that he’s been caught. 

“I shouldn’t-” He starts, Jibeom cutting him off instantly. 

“I’m not offering, I’m _giving._ ” That’s all it takes for Joochan to eagerly bound over to him and snatch a candy out of Jibeom’s grasp, and Jibeom has to suppress a smile at the fervor Joochan has as he rips open the packaging and pops it into his mouth. To Jibeom’s delight, he takes a seat at the foot of Jibeom’s bed.

Joochan and the lollipop make a pretty picture, with the orange of his hair matching the orange of his lollipop, his lips plump around it, pink tongue darting out every now and then. Jibeom has to suppress the urge to snap a picture and set it as his lock screen.

His eyes settle onto the little smear of paint that stains Joochan cheek, gone unnoticed by the other. “Oh, you have a little-” Joochan’s eyes flicker up to his, and Jibeom’s leaning forward before he can stop himself, hand reaching out just as Joochan’s had, fingers light as he rubs the bit of paint until it’s gone. He leans back, satisfied, hand still resting on Joochan’s face. “There.”

Joochan’s staring up at him open-mouthed, the lollipop dangling dangerously from his mouth, and all at once, Jibeom registers his actions. He swallows. 

Before he can open his mouth, maybe say something along the lines of _“I’m sorry”_ or _“marry me,”_ the bedroom door flies open, bouncing off the wall with a crack. They both startle, Joochan scrambling back on the floor, Jibeom on the bed. His gaze snaps up to pin an accusatory glare at the intruder. 

Bong Jaehyun, his useless roommate, stares back at him, then between the two of them. Then back at Jibeom. And then just _has_ to open his stupid, big mouth, completely disregarding the violent hand gestures Jibeom is making in his direction. “Sorry, Jibeom. I didn’t know you had your boyfriend over.”

Joochan turns red from where he’s on the floor and then he’s leaping up, sputtering explanations. “No!” He yelps so quickly that Jibeom can’t help but feel a little hurt. “I’m not his boyfriend! I’m just here to, um, fix the walls!” 

Jaehyun cocks his head, staring at Joochan. “Oh.” He looks at Jibeom, and a look of understanding passes his face and then, horrifyingly, that ugly expression that only shows up when Jaehyun has finally found something to tease Jibeom about. “ _Ohhhh.”_

Jibeom glowers. “Get out,” he says calmly. Jaehyun’s expression gets uglier.

“Gladly! I’ll be sure not to bother the two of you again.” With that, he strides out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Jibeom winces and then dares to look back at Joochan, who’s avoiding his eyes. His ears are bright red.

“Ah, sorry about him.” Jibeom chuckles awkwardly. “He shouldn’t have assumed you were my boyfriend.” He swallows a lump in his throat at the realization. That’s right. Joochan probably had a boyfriend after all. What had he been thinking? “When you probably have a boyfriend yourself. Haha.” The laugh is painfully tense. 

Joochan pauses from where he’d been slowly moving back to his supplies. “I don’t.” Jibeom stops in his awkward laughing, wondering if he’s heard him right.

“Huh?” 

“Boyfriend, I mean. I don’t have a boyfriend.” He’s looking back at Jibeom now, and his cheeks are definitely stained scarlet. “Single and ready to mingle.”  
  
“Oh.” Jibeom suddenly feels tingly all over. Does this mean…? 

He gets no further explanation for Joochan’s cryptic words, because the rest of the painting session is spent in silence, and even Jibeom can’t find it in himself to interrupt it. It’s only when Joochan’s packing up his supplies and Jibeom’s holding the door open for him to walk out of that he dares to speak up. 

Before he can chicken out, he blurts out, “Would you like to stay for dinner?” Joochan’s head swivels in his direction, eyes wide in surprise. 

From somewhere behind him, someone shouts, " _he means ‘would you like to stay forever?’”_

Jibeom makes a mental note to throw out Jaehyun the first chance he gets. 

Eyes twinkling so brightly that they rival even the sparkle of the milky way, Joochan agrees. “I’m technically finished with my shift for the day,” he says, smiling from ear-to-ear, “so, sure.”

Jibeom learns then why exactly Joochan had gotten fired from his previous job. It’s not surprising to him anymore, not when he watches with something close to awe as Joochan shovels food into his mouth in record timing. Watching Joochan eat is simply an _experience,_ and he can’t help but feel impressed.

And also endeared. He pushes his plate towards Joochan just because seeing him eat warms Jibeom’s heart in a way he hadn’t expected it to. 

There are no other excuses for Jibeom to spin up after they clear their plates and Joochan helps him clean up (even after Jibeom insists that he stay put. In the end, Jibeom doesn’t mind, especially with how Joochan takes the chance to bump shoulders with him as he washes the dishes, Jibeom melting internally at the touch), so they stand by the door, lingering as long as they can before they separate. 

Joochan pulls open the door, then hesitates, turning back. “Remember that you have my number.” Jibeom furrows his brows. There’s an underlying connotation under those words, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out what it is.

“In case I need another wall painted?” Jibeom thinks he hears Jaehyun groan from where he’s seated on the couch. Joochan looks like he’s going to either burst into laughter or regret ever accepting this job. Jibeom wonders if he’s said something wrong. 

“No-” Joochan stops, then smiles, albeit a little painfully. “Something like that. Let’s hope you need to get another wall painted soon.” The puzzle pieces click in Jibeom’s head.

Oh. _Oh._ This—This is Joochan’s way of saying that he wants to see Jibeom again, isn’t it? Excitement blossoms in Jibeom’s chest, because _Joochan wants to see him again!_

“I think I’ll need to get the others done soon,” he agrees, and Joochan’s eyes twinkle brighter. “And you’ll need to check on how the paint is doing, right?”

Joochan laughs, and Jibeom concludes that _yes,_ Joochan’s laughter is now his favorite sound in the world. “Of course.” He steps out the door. “It’s all part of the service.” He pauses, looking from Jibeom and back, as if he’s contemplating something.

Before Jibeom can ask him if anything’s wrong, Joochan’s rushing over in a blink of an eye, hands fisting into Jibeom’s collar and yanking him down. A pair of warm, slightly-chapped lips brush against his cheek, and then Joochan’s pulling away, backing up as Jibeom stares at him dumbly. He grins cheekily, tapping his cheek. 

“You had some paint,” he says, and then he’s turning on his heel, running off, Jibeom staring at the bobbing head of orange as it goes.

He only closes the door when he can’t see even a flicker of orange anymore, hand cradling his cheek as if it’s the holy grail. “I think I like their service,” he murmurs. 

Jaehyun groans and the other groan had definitely been from him. “No, you like _him._ Ugh, now I have to watch you be all whipped and gross with your new boyfriend. I’m moving out.”

Jibeom ignores him, hand still on his cheek, the skin where Joochan’s lips had brushed against tingling and warm from the memory. It feels like a promise. 

“This calls for a five-star review.” 

mr. jibe0m 

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 10/10 recommend 

great service. the handyman was cute, i now have a boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come be friends with me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/yeosakoi) !! ty for reading !!


	2. drywall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s never a good idea to get Joochan drunk because drunk Joochan is even dumber than regular Joochan, which means his already questionable life choices become even more questionable.

It’s never a good idea to get Joochan drunk because drunk Joochan is even dumber than regular Joochan, which means his already questionable life choices become even more questionable. And so, Joochan takes special care in making sure he never drinks more than he can handle. It’s quite admirable how he can limit himself and not go overboard.

Except all of that has been thrown out of the window, because Joochan is, simply put, very drunk. Very, very drunk. Drunk enough that he’s seeing black spots in his vision and mixes up Jangjun for Donghyun, and that’s never a good sign. He usually doesn’t let himself this far, but today, somehow, he had let Jangjun convince him that it was a good idea for him to take a shot after shot until his head is spinning and he’s in the stage where questionable things don’t sound that questionable to him anymore. And their current situation is the result.

“Truth or dare?” Jangjun asks, and later, Joochan will wonder why, he, a student in university, had taken a childish game so seriously and as if his life depended on it. However, right now, with the pleasant buzz of alcohol filling his systems and his head filled with cotton, he can’t find it in himself to care very much. 

“Dare, who do you think I am!” Joochan shouts over the chaos. Really, he doesn’t need to be as loud as he is, because Jangjun is right next to him. If he had been more lucid, maybe he would have been more worried about the evil glint in Jangjun’s eyes as he’d made his choice.

“I dare you to dye your hair…” Jangjun thinks over it for a second, before snapping his fingers. “Orange! _And_ get a mullet!” Joochan frowns. Dye his hair? Mullet? He quite likes the sweet blonde bangs that frame his face. But the punishment…

“ _Or_ you can just go and kiss someone!” A roar of laughter from the crowd. “Let’s hope it’s someone cute!” Joochan growls, riled up by Jangjun’s taunting words, just as Donghyun grabs his arm.

“Joochan, don’t you even _dare_ think of-”

“Dare accepted!” He shouts and the entire crowd erupts in cheers, silencing the sounds of Donghyun exclaiming about _what a terrible, terrible idea_ this is. 

And now they’re stumbling through the park well past midnight, walking towards the only hair salon that is open at this hour. Joochan and Jangjun are _clearly_ well out of their mind, nearly face-planting with every step. It’s a shocker that they’re able to even stand on their legs on their own. 

Donghyun frets over them, trying to convince the two drunk “idiots,” in his words, to think about the consequences of their actions. His pleas are drowned out by the two’s increasingly-louder murmurs of “ _orange, orange.”_

“Mark my words, you’re going to wake up tomorrow and cry, ‘oh, I should have listened to Donghyun, he’s _always_ right and _much_ smarter than me.’”

“ _Orangeeeee_.”

“And don’t you remember the last time you got drunk and agreed to do one of Jangjun’s dares? Isn’t that _exactly_ why you started watching how much you drink? I swear if this ends up like last time-”

“Orange!” Joochan chirps excitedly, cutting him off. Donghyun sounds like he’s about to cry.

“Stop and think about this a little!” It’s right then, as Donghyun is listing off reasons as to _why_ this is a _horrendous_ idea that Joochan will regret for the _rest of his life_ that Joochan conveniently trips over a rock.

Goodbye to his brain, hello concussion.

Shockingly, by some stroke of luck, his face does _not_ kiss the floor. No, he flops into a warm, solid wall. Warm, and _breathing._

He peers up in confusion, vision swimming as he squints his eyes and tries to focus. Big, rounded eyes, pretty nose, sculpted, small face. _Wow,_ he thinks, staring and staring and staring some more, the stranger’s exclamation of _“woah, you okay?”_ falling on deaf ears. 

He blinks. And blinks some more, slow, like a cat, staring at the handsome boy. Is he an angel? He thinks he can vaguely hear Donghyun spluttering behind him. He giggles.

“Pretty,” he says, the word slow and slurred, and what he does next he can only blame on the alcohol. His grip on the stranger’s shoulders tightens and he leans up—Donghyun gasps—and plants a wet kiss right on the stranger’s lips.

“Yes! Kiss! Kiss!” Jangjun is shouting somewhere from his right side to the soundtrack of Donghyun’s entire sanity cracking apart. 

He giggles some more before he stumbles away, Donghyun catching him before he keels over. His vision is seriously getting blurry now, and Donghyun’s apologizing profusely to the boy before he’s linking arms with Joochan and speed-walking him out of the park, Jangjun close behind. 

“Joochan!” Donghyun’s hissing into his ear, his face white and voice frantic. “You—You just _fucking-”_ And oh, maybe Joochan _should_ be a bit concerned now because Donghyun _never_ curses, “- _kissed Kim fucking Jibeom!”_

Kim Jibeom? The name sounds familiar. In his current state, Joochan can’t do much more than chortle out a loud “hehe.” “Pretty,” he slurs again, and Donghyun makes a sound like he’s in anguish.

Off in the distance, Jibeom watches the trio stumble away, his feet glued to the ground. “Woah,” he mumbles, gently touching his lips. He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, making his way back to his apartment. 

Jibeom sits bolt upright, whirling around to face Joochan, who’s raising a brow at his sudden movement. He points an accusing finger at the other. “You-!”

“What?” Joochan sounds genuinely confused as he sets down his book, tiling his head quizzingly as he tries to make sense of his boyfriend’s actions. 

“ _You’re_ the one who kissed me!?” It all makes sense now, Joochan’s story sounding strangely familiar to him, him wondering where he’d heard it, because—he hadn’t _heard_ it, he’d _experienced_ it! 

He had been jealous of _himself_ and this entire situation is laughable. 

“Oh. That.” Joochan doesn’t sound surprised at all, going back to his book as if Jibeom _hasn’t_ discovered the finding of the century. “Yep, that was me.” 

“You… I…” Jibeom’s at a loss for words.

“Kissed you? Yeah,” Joochan says easily, grinning. “The alcohol definitely helped.”

Jibeom blinks, and then closes his gaping mouth. “We… We haven’t even kissed after we started dating!” He regrets saying the words immediately because they sound even dumber out loud than they already did in his head. 

Joochan’s silent for a moment too long, and then all at once, bursts into laughter. “Are you… Are you _jealous_ of _yourself?_ ” 

Jibeom immediately denies it. “No-!” Joochan’s amused expression that says he’s not convinced in the slightest makes him back down. “Okay, maybe.” 

“You’re funny,” he says fondly, and then leans over, pecking Jibeom on the lips. He snickers harder as Jibeom _freezes_ on the spot, a raging blush overtaking his face.

Joochan’s peals of laughter as Jibeom shoves him off the bed in retaliation is the sweetest thing that has ever graced his ears. 

**Author's Note:**

> come be friends with me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/yeosakoi) !! ty for reading !!


End file.
